Othala
by Strager
Summary: On December 1986 one Tom Riddle, recovering from an "incident" five years previously (I'm sure we all know, which incident we are talking about), finds a small child with a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead lying in the snow by the road in the middle of nowhere. AU -fic! Rated T just in case.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** I have this problem. I can't get this story out of my mind. And it's interfering with my other fic, _Six Years Later_ that I'm currently writing. So I figured that if I put something in here, it might leave me alone long enough to at least finish the next chapter in my other fic and then I could maybe focus on this fic for awhile with a clear conscience.

So, about this fic. This is AU. Definitely AU. There will be many little things that won't sound right, because I have changed them a little or lot. So if things don't add up it's because of that.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me. I'm merely playing around a little bit. And I will say this only once and it will cover the whole fic.

I hope you'll like it!

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**Prologue**

_"There was a boy...  
A very strange enchanted boy.  
They say he wandered very far, very far  
Over land and sea,  
A little shy and sad of eye  
But very wise was he._

_And then one day,_  
_One magic day he passed my way._  
_And while we spoke of many things,_  
_Fools and kings,_  
_This he said to me,_  
_'The greatest thing you'll ever learn_  
_Is just to love and be loved in return.'"_

_- Nature Boy by Eden Ahbez_

xXx

18.12.1986

"Is the freak asleep yet?" Vernon grunted while driving along the highway in a cold and beautiful winter weather. It had snowed first time in the winter a week ago, just in time for a white Christmas.

Petunia turned and looked at the backseat, where their lovely son and the unnatural freak child of her sister's were seated. Both were sleeping peacefully, Dudley snoring in his sleep every now and then.

"Yes dear, I believe he is", Petunia answered and to make sure, reached and pinched the boy's leg. The freak stayed asleep, which he was supposed to do. The sleeping pills they had mixed in the boy's necessary breakfast had done their job. Vernon grunted and Petunia turned back to sit comfortably in the front seat. They started to look around as they drove at the sides of the road.

They drove few more miles before Vernon nodded to the right side of the road.

"How's that?"

Petunia looked where her husband had nodded and as the car slowed down saw a shrub, thick even without leaves and a large rock next to it.

"I think it looks perfect, Vernon. Why don't we take a better look?" she suggested.

Vernon nodded and pulled over. They got up from the car and Vernon waded to the shrub and the rock and inspected them while Petunia stood beside the road. Finally Vernon straightened and walked back to the car. There he opened the other door on the backseat and took the freak out. He carried him to the shrub and rock and crammed him into the space between the shrub and the rock. Then he piled some snow so that one could not see the boy from the road. He returned to his wife trying to cover his tracks the best he could and they clanked one more time to make sure you couldn't see the freak.

Then they nodded, stepped back in the car and drove away sure that by the time anyone would find the freak, it would be too late.

The little boy in the snow stayed asleep, not noticing the cold seeping into his body.

xXx

Tom Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort, was strolling quietly through the snowy world. Of course, as the Lord of the Dark he did not _stroll_ in public, he was alone only two magical animals, dogs known as hellhounds, as his company. Other times he would have taken Nagini with him, the snake was excellent partner to have a discussion with, but as it were snakes didn't do well in the cold and he was forced to bear with the dogs. Although, he had to admit, they were magnificent creatures. They were big, around the size of a small horse and their fur was black as coal. Their teeth were sharp and red as blood and their eyes glowed at the same color.

So it was quite clear to assume that he was perfectly safe, he had informed his loyal subjects firmly, because truly, who would dare to attack the Lord Voldemort, who was the most powerful wizard in Europe, if not in the world (unless you count the bloody fool Dumbledore), and who had two hellhounds as his companions on the grounds of his current estate.

The reason he was alone on the grounds was thinking. He had done that a lot in the past four months since he had finally healed completely from that disaster with the Potters. He still didn't know for sure what the hell had happened, but he knew he was lucky to be alive now. Anything worse and he could have lost his entire body. Fortunately he had sensed that something had gone wrong and managed to almost escape from the explosion that had followed his Killing Curse. His body had suffered enormous damage, but he had still had it. His most loyal followers had taken him away before the aurors had showed up and following the instructions he had given them, reconstructed his body. It had taken nearly four years and – he had to admit – the result was very good. The reconstruction had returned his body to its original form, save for the eyes. To the dashingly handsome dark haired man. He wasn't particularly vain, but he had to admit that he liked this body and not to mention that he was able to sneak around the Wizarding World without anyone realizing who was walking amongst them, once he had disguised his eyes of course.

But what he had been thinking the past months was the… accident he supposed one could call it. It most definitely wasn't a defeat even though everyone in the Wizarding World seemed to think so. He wondered what had gone wrong. Had he been too hasty? Possibly, though he hadn't thought that at time. He had thought only that he wasn't going to allow a mere child get in his way. And apparently that had been his mistake, he had been too…proud, he reluctantly admitted. He had been too sure of himself, even though he had seen many times what happened to those who were. Grindelwald was an excellent example. Of course the events year before the 'accident' also had their part in his too Gryffindor-like behavior. And most of all, he had not been sane.

He walked on top of a hill and stopped there to survey the view before him. A road used mostly by Muggles cut through the wild. It was right outside the wards surrounding his estate. He needed to change tactics, do things differently this time. The old tricks wouldn't work, although he wouldn't disregard everything. But this time they needed to be more careful, more subtle and more patient before giving the final blow, which would be of course taking over the Ministry and make some much needed changes. He smirked, he was going to enjoy that when the time would come.

And he needed to take the 'Boy-Who-Lived' into account, he rolled his eyes at the ridiculous name. Who knew what the old coot would manage to plant into the child's head while no doubt training him to be the hero of the Wizarding World. Really, that was not a thing for a child to be at such a young age and sure as hell not because some old idiot made him think so.

Suddenly he froze and stared at the rode unbelievingly. He was sensing a painfully familiar magical signature. The hellhounds had also smelled something. And it was coming from the road. He couldn't understand this, why on earth would the child – no matter which one – be here?

He started to approach the road slowly, tracking the signature. The hounds were already scurrying towards the road noses on the ground. As he passed the tiny birch forest and stood looking around, he frowned. He couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. But he dogs could smell something. They were circling around a shrub and a rock waiting orders from their master.

He advanced the shrub slowly and circled around it. At first, he still didn't see anything odd, but when he looked closer, his eyes widened slightly. There was a child between the shrub and the rock, partly covered with the snow. He blinked.

Definitely not what he had expected.

Reaching past the branches, he grabbed the boy from his shoulders and lifted him up to a sort of sitting position so that he could see the child's face. The child's head lolled from side to side and frowning Tom put him against the rock and lifted his head.

Yes, his senses were right. This was the other Potter boy – he had the scar – though he couldn't for the life of him understand why was he here and not with his parents and his brother. He knew from what his followers, Lucius and Severus especially, had told him and from reading the old papers that Dumbledore (he was sure it was the old coot) had proclaimed that the elder Potter boy – what was his name again? Jonathan? – had defeated him when in truth, and he was quite sure of it, if it hadn't been the work of the older one of the two boys alone. Nothing had been mentioned about the younger brother – Harry, if he remembered correctly – other than that the brothers had gotten identical scars from the event, the older brother's scar being in a different spot. But otherwise, nothing was mentioned about the younger brother again, he had assumed that he lived with his family somewhere.

Tom's eyes narrowed as he watched the child with calculating look in his eyes and thought about the situation. What should he do with the child?

Something was niggling in the back of his mind as if he needed to remember something important. He frowned, annoyed at himself. Recovering from the reconstruction meant that his memory had been difficult in the past few months. It was only now that his mind as well was starting to be its previous self. It was something Severus had told him not too long ago about the Potters and Dumbledore. Something he had acquired while Tom had been down. The man was a brilliant spy, he couldn't ask for better. The spy had been a double-crosser for a long time before finally deciding to stick with him. It was one of his most precious memories when the unfazed Potions Master had found out that he had known all along.

But what was it that the man had told him? Something about… a prophecy? Yes, that was it. Severus had come to him two months after he had been healed telling him that while he had been down, Severus had managed to acquire the whole prophecy. The blasted thing that had gotten him into this mess.

He raked his brains trying to remember how it went. Ah, yes.

"_Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies_…," he whispered the beginning and continued. "_…the one and one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, power drawn from a bond of blood… _- he was unsure what blood bond the prophecy meant, most likely the boys being twins - _…one who will stand in the path of the Dark and one who shall stand on the path of the Light… and the Dark Lord will mark them as his equals and they shall have powers the Dark Lord knows not… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…"_

'One who will stand in the path of the Dark and one who shall stand in the path of the Light', he thought slowly. 'Interesting.' When he had first heard the incomplete prophecy, it had been just a couple of lines and Severus had missed the beginning of the second line, _the one and one…_, which now that he thought about it later obviously meant the _two_ boys and not just the other one as he had presumed previously.

The child was very strong magically, they both were. Otherwise there wouldn't have been that kind of damage when the Killing Curse failed. Tom tilted his head as he watched the child, perhaps…it could be a great asset to their side, if the child were to grow into their beliefs.

Contrary to the public opinion, his 'cause' was not all about blood purity and killing Muggles and Muggle-lovers. He wasn't an idiot. He knew that they needed new blood every now and then to keep their magical heritance healthy and strong. Without it, the result would be disturbingly similar to those families who married too many of their cousins over and over again, he had seen some of those families. His own biological family had been like that, so he should know. They would suffer craziness and illnesses and eventually they would be extinct.

No, it was not about that. It was about keeping their world secret. There were too many Muggles who knew of their world, because the children were allowed to stay in the Muggle World and when they finally entered into their world, they were entirely ignorant of the ways and customs of the wizarding world. If their world would be revealed to the Muggles, they would be blown from the face of the earth faster than you could say 'Oh hell'.

The other things he longed to correct included the education of their children (it was bloody shoddy these days), the Ministry's international politics (the relations were poorer than his and Dumbledores), the auror department (they were really pretty incompetent) and to change some views about the Dark Arts and treatment of other creatures. The blood purity and Muggle-hating was merely the other side's propaganda.

Tom gathered the child carefully in his arms, noticing suddenly how blue the boy was. He needed to get him inside and quickly. While he was still alive. He turned and apparated closer to his castle. There he headed towards the doors the hellhounds running around him.

He grinned slightly evilly. Oh, yes. He was going to raise the child himself. And if he proved to be fit, he would maybe make him his heir. That would give the old coot a heart failure when he'd eventually find it out.

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**A/N:** Reviews are nice! *wink, wink*


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Since the prologue of this story has been so well received, I decided to put the first chapter up as well. But mind you, I'm not very regular updater so there will most likely be very long periods of time between the updatings every now and then. **  
**

Thank you for everyone who have reviewed! And to all the favorites and follows!

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1.

21.12.1986

Harry was slowly coming to his senses. He felt like he was floating. Everything was soft and warm around him. The only problems were a headache, his nose was congested and his throat was aching. But he was still feeling incredibly comfortable though at the same time he had a feeling that he was in an unfamiliar place. He decided to carefully open his eyes.

Where ever he was, it was lit dimly. He could hear the crackling of fire. He sat up slowly and found out that he had been sleeping in a biggest and softest bed he'd ever been. The room was quite large as well though to Harry's eye it seemed absolutely huge. The room was decorated with dark blues that looked like black in the dim light and dark wood. As he looked around the room, he started to wonder where he was and why was he here. He was _supposed_ to be with Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon and Dudley. They had planned spending the Christmas this year on a cruise and for once they had let him come too. Of course there had been the normal threats and all, but he had been so happy and excited about the trip. He didn't think he was on a ship now. Granted he didn't know what kind the rooms in a ship were, but he had a peculiar feeling that this was not it.

He had been so focused on the room and in his thoughts that when the door to the room suddenly opened he jumped. A man stepped through the door and shut it softly. Harry was starting to get a little scared. He had never seen the man in his short life. He was tall, slender but looked still strong Harry thought, and he had black hair and red eyes that were the thing that scared him the most. Harry gulped and drew his knees to his chin and gripped at the cover.

The man paused for a moment when he noticed that Harry was awake before continuing his way to the bed. "I see you have finally awakened."

He stopped next to the bed and pulled a chair that had been close sitting on it gracefully. Then the man dug up a small bottle from his pocket. Harry noted that the clothing was very odd looking. Then the man handed the bottle to him.

"Drink it", he ordered. "It will help to your flu that you are undoubtedly suffering from at the moment."

Harry looked at the bottle hesitantly before glancing back at the man who raised an eyebrow.

Harry bit his lip. "It will make me feel better?" he asked quietly.

The man nodded. "Yes."

Harry swallowed once again, opened the bottle and drank the stuff in one gulp. After few seconds only he felt a lot better. He stared at the bottle. What was that stuff? Harry looked up from the bottle back at the stranger.

"W-who are you? And where am I?" Harry asked and cringed mentally for the punishment that was bound to come. He was not allowed to ask questions. However, no punishment came. The man shifted on the chair and, to Harry's shock, answered him.

"My name is Tom Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort", the man said and surveyed Harry a moment. The child gave no inclination that either name was familiar to him. "You are currently in my home at Raven's Castle."

Harry blinked. How was he here? He was supposed to be with his relatives. And where were they now that he thought about it. Had they left him here so that they wouldn't need to endure his company after all?

"I – why am I here? Sir", Harry asked, a bit braver now that he hadn't gotten any punishment for his previous questions.

"I found you", the man – lord said. "Outside at the side of the road. Three days ago. "

"Outside?" Harry repeated. "But… I'm supposed to be spending Christmas with…"

Harry's voice trailed away as he realized. They hadn't been intending to take him with them all along. They had just said so. And then, obviously, gotten rid of him. Abandoned him. His eyes stung and he swallowed and blinked furiously trying to keep the threatening tears away. He knew he was a freak of nature, not worthy of a normal and sophisticated family as the Dursleys (Aunt Petunia never ceased to remind him of that) but he had tried so hard to be good. He had done everything they told him to the best he could and kept quiet, not complaining about anything or asked any questions. Of course they'd punished him every time he did something even a little wrong, but that had been okay. They hadn't left him. They hadn't abandoned him like this. Even though he was a little kid, only five years old, he wasn't stupid. He knew that lying in the side of the road in a cold winter was dangerous though he wasn't completely sure how. Somehow freezing like the food did in the freezer he supposed.

Finally Harry couldn't hold off his tears and drops of salty water flowed from his eyes while sniffling as quietly as possible.

Tom froze into his chair when the child started to cry. What an earth was he supposed to do? His expertise on dealing with a child was practically non-existent. Oh, how he wished she was here – no, he wouldn't think about that. He was starting to think, as he had many times in the last three days, that he hadn't thought this quite through. But who else he could dare to trust this child? No one. Even though he had several very trustworthy followers, he felt that this was so important, that it couldn't be given to anyone else. But still, he wasn't at all certain how he should deal with this kind of situation. And he felt slightly annoyed because of it. He was Dark Lord Voldemort whose name alone made his enemies tremble and he was utterly at loss with a mere child.

Someone was really having fun up there.

He tried to think. What did people usually do when their children cried? Comforted them. Yes, but how? Talking and… something else. He tried to remember if he'd had any similar kinds of experiences in his own miserable childhood and came up with nothing. He hadn't cried much as child. He had thought it a weakness. But… there was one time, when the tears had been very close and he remembered hoping that someone would come and hold him like he'd seen a mother holding her child once. He hadn't hoped that since but if he understood correctly, usually children responded well into hugs and whatnot.

Tom rose up from the chair and moved to sit on the bed. He hesitated for a moment before berating himself. It wasn't him to hesitate. So he lifted his hand and carefully placed it on the boy's shoulder. The child stiffened at the touch, but Tom chose to ignore it for the time being.

"Were they… important to you?" Tom asked softly, or at least tried to.

Harry hiccupped. "I don't know. Maybe. They were my relatives, aren't relatives supposed to be important? And – and they're all I've ever known."

"Not all relatives are important", Tom said unemotionally staring off to space. "Mine weren't."

"Really?" Harry said and lifted his head carefully and looked at Tom.

"Really", Tom said and hesitated but decided to tell more to the child as it seemed to get through to him. "My father left my mother when she was pregnant with me. He and his family never wanted anything to do with my mother's kind of people. And my mother's family was a disappointment. They were filthy, disgusting, evil and crazy. Too much inbreeding." Tom's lips were curled in distaste. "The lesser sons of greater ancestors."

"What about your mother?" Now that he had calmed down a little, Harry was beginning to get curious.

Tom shrugged elegantly. "Died in childbirth. I grew up in a muggle orphanage."

Harry sniffed and frowned. "What's a muggle? And what does die in childbirth mean?"

Tom handed a napkin to the child. "To die in childbirth, means that my mother died when she was giving birth to me. And a muggle is a human being who cannot perform magic." Tom watched as the boy stared at the napkin stupidly and rolled his eyes. For Merlin's sake, hadn't he been taught no manners. "Blow your nose."

Harry twitched a little and blushed. "Oh. Sorry. Umm… what do you mean can't use magic? Nobody can use magic, it doesn't exist."

Tom stared at Harry. He blinked once and continued to stare, unable to believe what he was hearing. The staring was unnerving Harry, mostly because he couldn't tell what kind of a mood the man was. Nothing showed in his face, they were like a statue. With Uncle Vernon one always knew what kind of mood he was. Especially if he was angry when he turned into purple. That was always the sign to prepare for the worst.

"Sir?" Harry asked carefully, not wanting to make the man angry. He could obviously be much scarier that Uncle Vernon when he wanted to.

Tom blinked once again and opened his mouth to speak. "You think magic doesn't exist?" he asked in a soft voice.

Harry nodded.

"Why do you think this?"

"Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia says so", Harry answered sounding like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Those despicable creatures, that left you in the snow?" Tom drawled icily. "Well, then I must inform you that they were wrong. Magic does, in fact, exist."

Harry looked at him suspiciously. "I don't believe you."

Tom raised his brows. Then he pulled out his wand gave it a swish and flick and levitated a book from the bookshelf next to the bed to Harry. Harry looked at the book mouth hanging open and when the book landed on his lap he jumped almost two inches up in the air. Harry stared at him, then at the book and back at him his mouth opening and closing.

"But…"

To prove his point better, Tom made a few more tricks, including changing a table into a chest and lightning up candles all around the room.

"Is this proof enough?"

Harry nodded his eyes wide. After a moment however, his eyes dimmed and his brow creased. Tom tilted his head to see Harry's face that were looking troubled.

"What is it?" Tom asked.

"I- nothing", Harry said and Tom looked at him disbelievingly and made it clear by staring Harry down. Harry stammered a little. "I- I just… I wondered what else they lied to me about."

"Ah. Well, if you tell me some of what they have told you I may be able to tell you something", Tom said and as he said that he realized that the boy hadn't told him his name. "And while you're at it, you could tell me your name as well."

Harry blushed once again."Sorry. I'm Harry Potter. But sir, you don't know me, how can you tell what my relatives have been lying about?"

"Yes, but you see, the Potters are quite famous in our world", Tom said all the while wondering should _he_ tell the child a complete truth.

Harry frowned a little. "Do you mean the magical people world? What are you called? And what do you mean famous, how?" Harry cringed inwardly, that might have been too much questions. But the man still didn't get angry at him.

"Yes, we, including you, are called wizards. Or, in ladies case, witches", Tom answered to the easier questions first. Tom sighed. "This is going to take time. Are you hungry?"

Harry looked at him amazed. Was he offering him food? Carefully, he nodded. And then as he watched, Mr. Riddle called some weird creature into the room and ordered it to bring food. It disappeared for a moment before appearing back not a minute later carrying a tray with it. The creature handed the tray to Harry who accepted it reverently. In the tray was the most amazing food ever. A full bowl of fish soup, with some bread with real butter on top of it and a glass of milk on the side. It was warm and it smelled heavenly.

Tom observed him carefully as he moved back to the chair now that the child seemed to be calmer again. His reaction reminded him of his own when he first sat on the Slytherin table at Hogwarts when he had been eleven. There hadn't been very much or very good food at the orphanage as it had been functioning in low funds. Judging by that reaction, Tom drew the conclusion that the bloody muggles hadn't fed the boy either. He watched as the boy started to eat savoring every bite he took and made his decision. He would tell the boy the truth and see what happened. He remembered himself hating when he wasn't told the truth as a child. Why would this child be any different, not that he claimed to know anything about children.

"Now, tell me what those relatives of yours have claimed", Tom said crossing his fingers.

Harry swallowed before speaking. "Well, not much, but they told me that my parents died in a car crash where I got this scar and that my dad was a drunk, who didn't have a proper job and mum was a whore."

Tom raised his brow. "I see." He leaned forward placing his elbows to his knees and crossing his fingers and placing his head on his hands. "Hmm. I suppose I should start by telling you that your parents are not dead."

Harry's head jumped up from the soup bowl and he stared at Tom with wide eyes. "They're not?"

"No, but let me tell you bit of the situation in the wizrading world", Tom said and told Harry how the wizarding world was at war and who he was at this world and who the child's parents were. And how they were on opposing sides. He kept a small break and studied the boy. He knew that this could go over the boy's head. "Are you still following me?"

Harry nodded hesitantly. "You are fighting a war because you think things are done wrong and my parents are disagreeing with you? But if my parents are against you, why did you save me?"

Harry looked worried and curious as he raised his eyes to Tom's.

"One does not leave a child outside freezing to death in the middle of the winter. No matter who the child is", Tom said in a voice that broke no arguments.

Harry nodded slowly. "Okay, so what has this was got to do with me living with my relatives?"

"Something happened", Tom started, trying to find the words. "Before this something happened, I was… different. I was angrier, more impatient and my winning streak had gone into my head and I'd gotten overly proud. Exactly those things one should try not to be as those traits make people do mistakes and bad decisions. Exactly what I did and it proved to be my downfall for nearly five years."

Harry looked at him with questions in his eyes. "Did you do something? What?"

Tom leaned back in his chair keeping his fingers crossed in front of him. "I tried to kill the Potter's children."

Harry's eyes went wide and his face turned to white as he looked at Tom. "Why?" he whispered. He was obviously scared at the moment, Tom could see that, it was like reading an open book.

Tom sighed. "I had a spy in their midst, but he was given faulty information. He was told that a prophecy had been made and that it said that a child would vanquish me. As I told you, I had become too proud and reckless, like a bloody Gryffindor, so when I found out who the possible children were I, in my stupidity, went and tried to kill you and your elder brother." Tom stared at the child to see if he was listening, which he was if a little shocked and scared. "But something went wrong and the spell that I tried to use sprang back and nearly destroyed my body. I spent the next five years getting my body healed and build back."

Tom noticed that the child was beginning to breathe erratically. He moved in front of him and put his hand to the child's shoulder. Harry flinched violently and Tom got down on one knee in front of him and gripped gently at his arms. The boy was evidently beginning to panic.

"Harry", he said softly but when nothing happened he repeated the name more forcefully but still softly. "Harry! Look at me."

Harry looked at Tom and he could see the child was afraid and confused. "Harry, are you listening me?" he waited the boy to nod before continuing. "I am _not_ going to hurt you. I will not harm you in any way! Do you understand?"

Tom stared at the boy, for once letting someone see something in his eyes. He tried to get the boy to see his sincerity, which wasn't very easy. He didn't remember when he had last done that. Harry stared at him for a long time before nodding slightly.

Tom nodded as well. "Good, now I need you to breathe slowly, understand? Slowly, in and out."

Harry closed his eyes and tried to do as Tom said. "Good, just like that. In… and out."

Harry breathed calmly for several minutes before opening his eyes. Then he sat there a moment, with Tom watching him closely and he burst into tears. This time it was Tom's turn to almost panic. This time it was Tom's fault the child cried! Surely he would just worsen the situation if he tried to hold the boy again. Dear Circe, what the hell should he do? As he couldn't figure that out, he carefully took the boy into his arms again, treating him like a wild animal. Luckily for him, he didn't seem to worsen the situation. But neither did it change any better. He tried to think if there would be anything he could do more.

Then he remembered seeing Lucius once, comforting his son. The normally icy man had held the boy and rocked him and mumbled some nonsense to the child in a soft, calming voice. Tom sighed and thanked the gods that nobody was seeing this. His reputation would be forever ruined. Then he stuffed the embarrassment into the back of his mind and started rocking the crying boy. Eventually he started, to his horror, mutter softly things like 'It's okay' or 'Calm down' and 'Everything will be fine'. However, it seemed to be helping. Harry was gripping his robes tightly and slowly calming down again. After a few more minutes, Harry had quite calm and Tom handed him another napkin.

Harry wiped his face and blew his nose. Then he sat silently thinking for a while. He believed that Tom wouldn't hurt him as he had promised. He didn't know why, but he was sure of it. The man had told him some shocking things, but not yet why he had been put with the Dursleys. He still wanted to know that and he was sure that unlike his uncle, Tom was man of his word. Until now at least he had been.

Harry took a deep breath. "Okay. But you still haven't told me why I was put with my relatives."

Tom nodded. "Of this I cannot be completely sure, mind, but after you had blasted me into oblivion, Dumbledore, the leader of the other side as I told you, declared your brother as the one who vanquished me."

Harry frowned. "But… you said we did it."

"You did", Tom said, "and I believe Dumbledore knew it too despite what he did. I also believe that he is mostly responsible that you were taken to your relatives. You see, after I was healthy again the same spy who had told me the faulty information had managed to acquire the complete prophecy. In the prophecy is mentioned that one of the brothers will turn against them. And to prevent that, he had to get rid of the other brother."

Harry frowned. "But why me? Is there something wrong with me?"

Tom shook his head. "No, there isn't anything wrong with you. You are extremely strong young wizard child. One of the strongest I know. I do not know the reasoning behind this act. Only Dumbledore knows."

Harry pulled his knees up wrapping his arms around them and resting his chin atop of the knees. He looked forlornly at the floor. "Nobody likes me. They just give me away or dump me somewhere. Everybody leaves", Harry whispered. "I hate them."

"You can stay here", Tom said slowly. "I'm not going anywhere. You can try it out in here and if you don't like living here, we can find you another place from somewhere."

"I could?" Harry asked and found himself yawning suddenly. He was becoming very tired very quickly.

"Yes", Tom said, "but now, you are going to bed. You are falling asleep just sitting there. We can talk more tomorrow."

Harry tried to object faintly, but gave up pretty quickly when he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. When he was in fast asleep in the bed Tom left the room turning to look at the child at the door once more. He was obviously going to be very powerful wizard when he'd grow up. His mental development alone at this age was in so high that it proved the matter alone. If things went well, he could keep the boy and raise him to follow his beliefs and eventually make him his heir. But if the boy refused to live here, he knew he had to let him go. Nothing would make the boy distrust him more than not living up to his word. If he let him go, there might be the chance of Harry returning to him some day.

After all, the Potters and their circle of Gryffindors all thought that Harry was evil.

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**A/N:** I'm not sure if I like this chapter, but it came out as it did. Reviews are still nice :D


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Hello! And here is the second chapter! I like it a bit better than the previous one :)

Thank you for all of the reviews! They really make my day.

_Harriverse_: I don't know if I'd call the white hats exactly _evil._ I'm trying to get a more gray look on them. Except for Dumbledore maybe...

_Guest_ (you know who you are): Ihanaa törmätä suomalaiseen lukijaan ^_^ Kiva kun tykkäät teksistä, toivottavasti jaksat lukea jatkossakin hitaudestani huolimatta.

And on with the story. Enjoy"

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2.

27.12.1986

After the week was over, Harry had decided that he would stay and live with Tom. For Harry, the week had been interesting and quite nice when he thought about it but also very confusing and difficult. He had had, and was still having, hard time getting used to the fact that nobody hurt him if he did something wrong (at least not yet though Tom had cuffed him at the back of his head one time when he had tried to go to the part of the house that was forbidden due to damage it had gotten somewhere, Harry didn't know where) and he didn't have to do housework. In fact it was almost forbidden as the strange creatures that Harry had learned were called house-elves prided themselves in their work and considered it nearly a sacrilege that Harry even thought about doing those chores.

So Harry had lots and lots of time in his hands that he used after he had gotten his energy back by exploring the castle through and through and while doing so had found something new and strange and interesting every day. For example, on the first day he had gotten the permission to go exploring, he had found out that the paintings moved and spoke. It was so cool and different in Harry's mind since he had been used to the boring unmoving muggle pictures for his whole life. After that he had found a wizard newspaper which had moving pictures too and had asked from Tom that night how they were made. He had also along the week bumped into the hellhounds that had scared him to death before Tom had come to the scene and ordered the dogs to not harm him.

The castle was surprisingly light and airy considering how dark it looked from the outside with its gray granite walls. On the inside the walls were in the corridors and larger rooms calcified white and in smaller rooms like the bedrooms and offices and others the walls were paneled with different kind of woods. The castle had a big library and Harry had fell in love with it at once. He had always wanted to read, but firstly nobody had taught him (the Dursleys certainly weren't going to waste any time into doing something as futile as teaching a freak to read, it wasn't like he needed it anywhere, did he) and secondly Dudley had never been interested in books, so those few children's books that there had been at the house had been quickly destroyed when Dudley found out how nice it was to rip paper into tiny pieces. He wondered if Tom or someone in the castle would teach him to read. Then he could read all these books.

The castle was pretty quiet at the moment according to the house-elves and when he had asked why, he had been told that it was because their lord was still recuperating from the body reconstruction. Though it had been five months already, the lord needed much more time still to get his strength back. They told him that a healer visited the castle two times a week to see how the lord was healing and showing him new rehabilitation methods every time she was here. Harry had seen Tom doing some stretches and other exercises in the morning after breakfast and in the evening after dinner. He hadn't dared to go to the room while Tom was doing his workout and Tom had left him to fare mostly on his own during the days as he wanted to give Harry time to familiarize himself with his surrounding without the added stress of an adult hovering nearby.

Tom had given Harry a clear set of rules as to what to do and not to do and where to go and not to go. The only time he had broken those rules had been when he had tried to go to the damaged area of the castle. Tom had cuffed him at the back of his head, given him a scathing lecture and told him stay in his room until dinner time. When he had been going to his room, he had caught a glimpse of Tom's face with a peculiar look on them. Like he had been very disturbed by something.

Other than the Healer, there were only two people who visited the castle more often, at least at the moment. The other was a Potions Master, Severus Snape, who came to deliver strengthening and healing potions to aid Tom's healing. When Harry had asked what a Potions Master was and gotten the answer that the term meant someone who was a master in making magic potions, which could be used in hundreds of different ways if one knew how to make them correctly, Harry had thought that would be great to know how to do something like that. Though, he wasn't sure if would have been any good at it.

The other visitor was a man named Lucius Malfoy. Harry had thought as he had spied the man when he had been walking through the corridors that he had been very important looking person like the way Tom looked like, only he seemed to Harry even important than this pale, light-haired and elegant man. According to what little Harry had found out on his own (he tried to be not so curious about the man who had been so good to him because he knew that people didn't like it when other people stuck their noses into their own business') Mr. Malfoy and Master Snape were people who Tom trusted the most among his followers. Other than that he had not seen anyone else in the castle during the week. The elves told him that nobody other than the Healer and the Inner Circle of Tom's people knew that he was alive so nobody had any reason to come in the castle and it had very strong protections.

During the week, the Christmas had come and gone as quietly as the castle itself was. This had been a very strange Christmas since he didn't even have the Dursleys to watch spending it. It was as if the people in the castle didn't even know about it. And in a way they actually didn't. Tom had explained to him as he had wondered it at Christmas morning that he and his people didn't celebrate Christmas, but Yule, the winter solstice that was about few days earlier that Christmas. The day he had woken up had actually been the winter solstice and he had missed it. Though, thanks to the very small amount of people in the castle, it hadn't been much of a party. Tom said he had gone and held a small Yule ritual on his own by the time Harry had fallen asleep again and enjoyed a quiet evening afterwards.

For more or less, he had been having pretty nice time in here the only exception being the nights. During the nights he saw (practically every night) always nightmares. He had seen them as long as he could remember. Most of the time, the nightmares were Dursley related, though they had changed some. These days he dreamt of the Dursleys changing their minds and coming back to take him away from Tom and this marvelous castle and he would have to go back to being the freak who did everything they told him to and who was punished painfully when he couldn't please them. And sometimes the nightmares were about the night Tom had tried to kill them. When he had first time seen that dream in the castle, Tom had told him what it had been about as he had never understood it. Feeling afraid, seeing a flash of green light and hearing a terrible scream didn't tell much to a five year old boy.

The first time he'd had a nightmare while in here, he'd just sat on his bed trying to calm down and stop crying. The house-elf, who had come to see what had been wrong had eventually given up and gone to wake her master. When the man had come to his room to see what the ruckus was about, Harry had apologized profoundly and endlessly for disturbing the man terrified that he would be angry and hurt him. However, he hadn't been angry, or if he had been he had hid it awfully well. Tom had asked him how bad the dream had been and when he'd answered that it had been worse than normal, Tom had frowned. Then he had given him the sixth degree about how often and what sort of dreams he was having. Harry had answered the questions and once done, Tom had helped him get back to sleep by staying by the bed until he was asleep wearing that slightly disturbed look on his face again and after that he had come to sit with him every time he had woken up from a dream if he hadn't gotten back to sleep.

The next evening, Tom had given him a notebook telling him to write his dreams and anything else he wanted down saying that it helped some people. Harry hadn't dared to tell him that he couldn't neither read nor write as the man seemed for some reason to assume that he knew how to do that. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to know how to do this yet, but Dudley hadn't known and that meant that Harry wasn't allowed to know either. But now as he was getting a little braver every day, he hoped he would dare to ask him some time soon.

Today Harry was sitting at the dining table eating breakfast with Tom as they had done nearly every morning since he had come here. Harry was sitting on a chair that had a thick and sturdy pillow to raise him better to the proper level with the table and Tom was sitting next to him at the end of the table. On the table, like every morning, was a huge amount of food in Harry's perspective. He had taken something different every morning and this morning he decided to take some porridge with apple jam which proved to be delicious. Tom usually ate some toast with bacon, a fruit of some sort and a cup of tea while at the same time reading the Daily Prophet that was always placed next to his seat.

Tom had finished his paper and folded it to the side before returning back to his breakfast. As he sipped his tea, he eyed Harry. It had been only a week and already the boy was starting to look better. There was color in his face and he didn't seem as sickly as he had before.

"Has the notebook helped any?" Tom asked and raised his brows as the child twitched.

"I haven't been able to write in it, sir", Harry answered eyes firmly on his porridge. Tom had given him a permission to use his first name when no one else was around and he did use it sometimes, but mostly he still called Tom 'sir'.

"You haven't?" Tom asked.

"No, sir. I can't", Harry squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.

"You can't?" Tom was starting to feel like a parrot.

"Read, sir. Or write", Harry said miserable.

Tom stared at Harry for awhile too shocked to say anything. Nobody had taught the child even the basics? The child was more than capable of learning how to read by this point, probably had been a year already. Then he rolled his eyes inwardly, why was he even surprised. He had lived with those disgusting Muggles. He should have realized this when he had given the notebook to Harry earlier.

"Very well", Tom said. "Then we shall teach you."

Harry looked at him with wide and hopeful eyes. "Really?"

Tom nodded and Harry's face broke into a smile. Tom's mouth twitched into an almost smile for a moment before he cleared his throat and sipped some more tea. "As we are in the subject of teaching, I was intending to offer you some books of the wizarding world to study for a start. But we shall have to get you to read first."

"You have books about your world?" Harry asked sounding exited and a little surprised.

"_Our_ world, Harry, our world. You are a wizard too remember?" Tom corrected. "And yes, there are few books directed to the Muggleborns that I believe would be useful for you as you are practically in the same situation as them though you are younger."

"Oh, when are they in this situation then?" Harry asked.

"They find out about our world usually the summer before they start the school here, around eleven years old. The invitation or acceptance letter to Hogwarts is sent then", Tom explained. "The bursts of accidental magic are usually ignored before that as Muggle adults have difficulties in believing in it, thank the gods for that at least."

Harry frowned. "But… isn't one summer a bit short to learn everything? I feel like I don't know anything and I'm probably going to take forever to learn anything." Harry was looking quite hopeless as he said the last part.

Tom looked at him faintly amused. "Well, perhaps not forever. But, yes. One summer is entirely too short time for learning about our world."

Harry smiled and returned to eating his porridge while listening as Tom continued. "Once we have gotten that out of the way, I was planning to have you study some basics on magic, as your magic is more developed than it usually is in your age."

"What kind of things would I study?" Harry asked curiously.

"Well, the basics in some of the subjects that we study in school: potions, herbs and charms for a start and perhaps some history", Tom said and as Harry seemed delightfully interested he continued. "And if you are interested I'd suggest fencing as well."

"Fencing? You mean like with swords?" Harry asked with wide eyes.

Tom rolled his eyes. "Yes, with swords."

"Why?" Harry was frowning as he tried to think of a reason, not that he'd complain. Swords sounded awfully interesting. It would be cool if he'd know how to use a sword.

"Exercise is always good", was Tom's answer and Harry nodded. "Why don't you come to my study after lunch and we shall begin your lessons."

Harry appeared uncertain. "You think I'll learn? Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia said always that I couldn't learn anything as complex as reading."

Tom scoffed. "Of course you'll learn. If you'd gotten lessons you'd have probably been reading a year already."

Harry grinned happily and finished his breakfast. Tom nodded and after reminding Harry to come in his office after lunch told him to go and continue his exploration. Harry thanked for the breakfast and dashed out of the dining room to head off to the parts of the castle he hadn't searched yet.

Tom stayed watching him go for a while. He'd have to come up with more things to do for the child soon. The castle would be soon thoroughly examined and Harry would need something to occupy himself. What did children do? He had never had a normal childhood so he wouldn't know and after the… incident… he had lost his hopes of ever having children or even a wife again. Perhaps he could ask the house-elves. They had tended children in the past so surely they would know.

xXx

Harry hurried along the hallway towards the dining room. He wasn't actually late but he had noticed that Tom liked people who were on time. He hadn't said anything but there was this small frown, you almost couldn't see it, that had appeared between his brows in that one time when Harry had been late. After that Harry had tried to be on time always.

He had had fun once again examining the castle. This time he had found the kitchens. They had been the coolest kitchens he had ever seen, though that didn't really say much since the only kitchens he had ever seen were the Dursleys kitchen and the kitchen in the daycare where his aunt had taken him and Dudley when they had been younger.

Even though a large part of the kitchens in the castle were unused, since at the moment there didn't live any other people than he and Tom and so there wasn't any need to use all of the kitchens. The elves had told him that in the golden age of the Ravens Castle when all the parts had been on use, the kitchens had been divided into a warm kitchen, where they did all the hot foods, cold kitchen, where salads and other non-heated food products such as some desserts were made and the bakery, where they obviously baked bread and made all kinds of cakes and pastries. There was also a whole area for dishwashing only. The elves had told him that in those days there had been so much dirty dishes that sometimes they'd had trouble fitting in the area. The elves had had a very wistful look on their faces as they had said this. They had also said that they hoped now that the lord was well again that there would be more people in the Raven's Castle again.

Harry's morning had gone in the kitchens in the end. He had listened the elves telling him stories of the times when there had been lots of people in the castle and asking terribly lot of questions about what they were doing and asking if there was anything he was allowed to do since he had really wanted to help and do something in the kitchen. The elves had been very confused about this and almost declined but then Harry had looked at them pleadingly, what he himself didn't even realize he had done, and the elves had given in and let him help. Despite having to do kitchen work at the Dursleys in the command of his aunt, he had always enjoyed cooking. He found it so cool and amazing that when you put some of this and some of that with few of those and as a result you could get something entirely else. He loved it.

He slowed down as he approached the dining room's door. He tilted his head curious as he heard speech from the room. Tom's and someone else's. The door was open and Harry stepped inside the room a little hesitantly. Inside he found Tom sitting at the head of the table as he always did and next to him, opposite of Harry's usual seat was the Potions Master Harry had only seen a glimpse before. The man had a shoulder length, black hair that seemed a little greasy Harry thought and a long, crooked nose. His eyes were pitch black and his skin very pale which his completely black clothes made even more prominent.

Harry hovered in the doorway until Tom noticed him. "Ah, Harry. Come in. I would like you to meet Master Severus Snape."

Harry moved to the table. "Hello, sir. Nice to meet you."

The Potions Master inclined his head coolly. "Likewise, Mr. Potter."

"Sit down, Harry", Tom said gesturing with his hand and turned towards Master Snape. "I hope you remembered the potions, Severus."

Master Snape nodded and pulled a potions vial from the large sleeve of his robes. "Of course, my lord."

The man put the vial in front of Harry and Harry turned his gaze to Tom. "What's this, sir?"

"It is a nutrition potion, Harry. I'd like you to take one before every meal for awhile, it should correct most of the damage the Dursleys behavior caused", Tom answered.

Harry nodded and noticed Master Snape raising his brows. He moved his gaze to the potion. "Is it going to taste bad?"

"It shouldn't taste unbearably foul, Mr. Potter", the Potions Master answered.

Harry nodded uncertainly and drank the potion quickly. The man was right, it wasn't too bad, but he really didn't like it either. After that, they proceeded to eat during which Harry learned a little more about the mysterious Potions Master. The man was in a teaching position in a wizarding school and taught, of course, potions. He was also the person who supplied Tom all the potions he needed. Harry didn't talk much other than answering to the questions he was asked.

When the lunch ended, Tom told Harry to go to his study while he would speak of a few things with the Potions Master before he left. Harry nodded and headed off to the office. He hoped that he would learn to read quickly. All those books and generally anything that had text in it teased him endlessly when he couldn't know what it read.

xXx

Tom watched as the young boy nearly ran from the room. He smiled slightly at the child's enthusiasm before turning back to the other man in the room. The Potions Master was also looking at the boy leaving with a slight frown in his face. Tom knew Severus didn't have a very good relationship with the Potters and the child must have reminded him of them. If he remembered correctly, Lily Potter had green eyes as well and Severus had been quite taken with her. Tom frowned very slightly as his thoughts tried to wander into places he did not want to remember. She had had green eyes too.

Tom focused on one of his most trusted people and friends. Severus had also shook the memories from his mind and was now waiting for him to speak.

"I believe I am quite healthy by now, Severus, and I would appreciate it if you'd start telling me the happenings of the last five years. Or do I have to find out about them myself?" Tom said with a raised eyebrow.

Severus looked at him for a moment, as if trying to decide if Tom wasn't exaggerating about his condition. He was known of his tendency to belittle his injuries when he had them, Tom secretly admitted to himself. Apparently the Potions Master agreed with his statement and nodded.

"No, milord", Severus paused for a moment to think where to start. "There hasn't been too much happening in the past five years. The Wizarding World has been trying to recover from the war and tried to forget."

Tom nodded. It was quite expected from them.

Severus continued. "Dumbledore does not believe you to be dead like the rest of the world does. He is secretly looking signs of you and training that boy, Jonathan Potter, to be your defeater. "

Tom raised his brows surprised. Interesting. He thought it was quite obvious that the older Potter child wasn't what injured him alone. What was the old man up to?

Now Severus seemed uneasy, Tom noted.

"The only concerning thing after your accident is that Greyback has broken the agreement you made and gone underground. He seems to be collecting other Werewolves and at least some lower Vampires, but we have not managed to find out why as of yet."

Now Tom visibly frowned. He had known that the Werewolf was a loose cannon when they had made the agreement, but the man hadn't seemed too capable of conducting anything on his own. Apparently he had been wrong. There was obviously some meaning with the gathering of the wolves and Vampires. Perhaps they were planning a coup of their own. Tom sipped his wine. That would not do. The Wizarding World would never accept any of the Magical Beings if Greyback got his plans through.

Even though Dumbledore still thought he was alive, it was excellent that the rest of the world didn't. Since Dumbledore had tarnished the name Voldemort with his propaganda (at the moment he was very happy that he had used an alias when he had started his little rebellion), perhaps he should this time go by his own name and identity. Dumbledore had made practically a terrorist and a madman of Voldemort (though he did concede that he had been one during the decade before his fall), it would be most counterproductive to use the name again. If he could somehow manage to inform the people of Britain of his status as the Lord of Wales without the old coot finding out too quickly, it would be as if the legends had come to life as the tales of the Lords of the Islands were something every wizard or a witch knew from their childhood. Their lines were thought gone as most of the Founders lines.

Tom looked at Severus. "Nothing else has happened?"

Severus shook his head. "Nothing of importance, milord. Well, Millicent Bagnold is the current Minister of Magic, though I hear she is retiring. They have offered the position to Dumbledore, but he has declined. Cornelius Fudge or Bartemius Crouch will most likely be the next Minister."

"Hmm, I hope it's Fudge. He would be much easier to get rid of", Tom said before thanking the Potions Master and letting him return to his own business.

Tom stood up and headed to his study. Once he arrived there, he found Harry sitting on the other armchair in front of the fireplace and staring happily at the crackling fire. Every now and then he would glance at the clock at the mantelpiece. Tom nodded satisfied and conjured a smaller table and a chair near his desk. Then he summoned a book from somewhere and as it flew through the door Tom gestured Harry to come and sit on the table.

"Come here, Harry and sit down", Tom said and waited for Harry to sit. Once he had done so he continued. "Now we shall begin with familiarizing you with the letters."

"Okay", Harry said and made himself comfortable as possible.

Tom placed a book in front of him and explained that it was a spelling book. He also placed a booklet made of cheap paper in front of him as well.

"As we go through the letters, you shall at the same time learn how to draw the letter by copying them from the book to this booklet. One page for one letter", Tom said and Harry nodded eager to get started.

"Now, this one is A…"

xXx

Later that evening Harry lay in his bed, a children's book with bigger letters than normal in front of him. Tom had given it to him so that he could memorize the letters so that they weren't in the order that they were in the spelling book. He had learned the order of which the letters were and could that way tell what letter was which if he forgot something. J and Z were causing the most trouble at the moment.

He had spent the entire afternoon learning the alphabet and gone to explore only after dinner once Tom had told him to have a break. When he had gone to bed, he had thought to check out the children's book and try to see if he could form words from the letters already. However, Harry hadn't had such luck yet and it made him a little frustrated. Finally he decided to let it be for today and go to bed. Perhaps he would learn how to read tomorrow. He sighed, put the books on his bedside table and reached to blow the candle. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

xXx

Tom was drawn from his sleep when the spell in Harry's room alerted him that the child had once again woken up, from a nightmare probably. He blinked few times before getting up and wrapping himself in a dressing gown. He lit his wand and headed to Harry's room. As he walked, he wondered if this was wise, going to comfort a child because of a bad dream. He didn't know why he was doing it exactly. Or scratch that, yes he did when he started thinking about it. Which he had been avoiding. As pathetic as it sounded, he had to admit to himself that he went to comfort the child because of his own bloody childhood. And _she_ would have wanted him to. His and the child's childhoods were too similar. Bloody pathetic. He hoped no one would ever find out about this or his reputation would be ruined.

Tom stopped at the door and knocked before stepping inside the room. He remembered when he had done that the first time, Harry had been… shocked. As if no one had done so before. And judging by what he had observed during Harry's stay that was probably correct. As he neared the bed he frowned. Something was different. The child's cry was different than before. Earlier they had been terrified, almost violent sobs with Harry nearly hyperventilating but now… now he was just crying silently and softly.

Tom moved to the bed gliding quietly across the floor and sat down on the bed. "Harry? Did you have another nightmare again?"

The boy's head snapped up as he had not heard the Dark Lord come in and he seemed to stare through Tom, thinking for awhile before settling to shake his head.

"No?" Tom asked. "Then what has upset you so?"

Harry bit his lip. "I don't know. It was just really… nice."

Tom's eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. "Nice?"

Harry nodded slowly as he sniffed. "Yes."

Tom frowned. Now that he was here and the child had calmed down somewhat, he appeared to be in some sort of stupor. He was slow and still incredibly saddened by whatever _nice_ he had seen in his dream although his tears had lessened.

"Tell me about this dream."

Harry nodded and told him about a boy he had seen, or rather been, in the dream, who had been practicing riding a broom with his father. He talked slowly, occasionally stopping to swallow some tears that threatened to fall again. Tom's mind was working quickly. He had a feeling there was something strange about this dream.

"Harry, can you remember what things and people looked like in your dream? Or any names?" Tom asked once Harry was finished.

Harry scrunched his face as he tried to remember. "Well, we were outside in a meadow. I don't think that helps and I couldn't see myself, him I mean. And dad, his dad I mean, he was… he had black hair… and glasses and… hazel colored eyes I think. And he was tall."

Tom nodded encouragingly. "Did you hear any names perhaps?"

"Yeah, I think he called me Johnny and Jonathan", Harry replied nodding slowly to himself.

Tom rubbed circles on the boy's back and thought. The Potter's son was named Jonathan and the description of the father matched what he knew of James Potter. Could it be that the curse that had rebounded from Harry and Jonathan had created some sort of link between the two boys. They both had the scars on their foreheads. There was no reason for there to be an identical, if a mirror image, scar on both boys foreheads. Tom was quite certain that Jonathan Potter hadn't had anything to do alone with the accident, as he had come to call it, since as the victim he had a quite unique point of view for the rebounding of the killing curse.

Tom glanced down at the boy who was leaning against him and noticed that he had fallen asleep. He carefully placed him back under the covers and smothered the candles with a Smothering Spell and charmed a night light for the child. Then he returned to his rooms in deep thought. It would take a while before he would be able to get any sleep.


End file.
